


Late Night Talk

by Viviona



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, Tom is worried, Tomtord if you squint, Tord is just very sad, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viviona/pseuds/Viviona
Summary: Tord can't handle the stress sometimes. Tom can help.(Tw warning)





	Late Night Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling angsty so
> 
>  
> 
> By the way prepare for some Sanders Sides fanfictions. Especially some angsty Anxiety/Virgil one shots

Tord stared at the wall across from him, watching shadows lazily cross the walls, before disappearing. He was curled up in his bed, wide awake as he glanced at his clock. 3:37 AM. Tom, Matt, and Edd were most likely sleeping, but like usual, he wasn't. Tord was either too caught up in work, or his body was so use to unusual sleeping habits that it was never tired when it was supposed to. And many nights he would lay awake until the sun had risen, drag himself out of bed, only to almost pass out at the table or couch.

He hated it.

He hated these sleepless nights, he hated the constant paperwork and blueprints he had piled up on his desk. He hated the weight of being a leader resting promptly on his shoulders. 

Some days he wished that he didn't have so much responsibility. He wished that he didn't have to make up excuses on why he couldn't go out somewhere with his housemates.

Tord wished he wasn't so power-hungry.

But here he was, leader of the Red Army, hiding a secret from the people he's known all his life, just so he could get what he wanted.  Sometimes he thought about ending it. The combined stress and anxiety that has built up over the years was sometimes too much too handle. 

Running a hand through his messy hair, he forced himself out of bed, giving up on trying to sleep.  making his way to the bathroom, he slowly looked at the mirror, he stared at himself. Deep bags hung heavy under his eyes, his hair was fluffed messily, and as he glanced down, he could see thin, neat scars running across this arm.

He almost forgot about those. Letting a finger trace them lightly, he slowly counted them. One, two, three, four, five, six, not including the ones that have faded. It wasn't that he was depressed, but it was more of the fact that when he was, he'd do it all the time, and it grew into a habit. Though when things were particularly bad, he'd have urges.

Taking another look at himself, he sighed. What would they think if-when- they found out that he's been lying to them? Building a secret lab, doing experiments, and deigning a robot? Hell, he's the leader of an army. What if his friends end up fighting against him?

Tord leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting, his head resting on his knees. He just wanted to be happy. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but eventually, the tears came.

His eyes started getting watery, slowly filling up, until they had nowhere else to go but down. He hates crying. It was a sign of weakness, a sign of submission. Still, he couldn't help it. Moments later he was burying his head into his arms, trying to contain the sobs that were coming out. His small form trembled, alone. Until that is, a head poked through the doorway.

"Commie? What're you doin-oh," A soft sigh was heard as Tord glanced up, only for his face to turn pink as he shoved his head back down. He couldn't let Tom see him like this. But, of course, it was too late. Tord peeked out from his sleeves to find Tom had moved. He was now sitting next to him, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

"So... You wanna talk about it...? He asked, watching as Tord tried to avoid eye contact.

He shook his head, wiping his face. Tom made a small 'oh' noise before coming quiet. Then it was silent. It became almost too much for him. In the moment of panic, he gave out a weak laugh, tears pouring more freely down his face.

"You probably think I'm an idiot for crying like this..." He whispered out, embarrassed.

"No!" Tom burst out, only to have his voice grow smaller. "It's just... I'm worried... You're always tired, you say you're fine, but I've always known that you're not..." Tord stared at Tom, surprised. He thought that they were enemies. They were, right?

"But... Don't you hate me?" Tord replied softly. Tom didn't reply, instead he turned his face away, appearing embarrassed.

Minutes past, only filled with Tord sniffling. Then, out of nowhere, Tom wrapped his arm around him, giving him a half hug. Tord leaned into the touch. It was nice, until Tom broke the silence.

"What are those...?" He mumbled, Tord glancing up at him.

"What are what?" He replied, following Tom's line of gaze.

Oh.

His eyes were staring at his arm.

His sleeve had been pulled up from the position, and poking out from underneath was a light, thin line.

"N-nothing," he responded hastily, pulling his arm close to his chest. Tom however, had other plans. He grabbed Tord's arm, which made Tord turn red, and forced his arm out in front of him. He tugged the sleeve back further, and he could see Tom's 'eyes' widen.

Tord expected him to be angry, but instead he felt a gentle finger trace each and every one of them.

"When was the last time you've done it?" Tom breathed out.

"Th-three weeks ago," he stuttered out. Tom softly pulled the sleeve back down, letting out a sigh.

"Just... Just try not to do it again," he mumbled. Tord gave a small nod, clearly embarrassed. It was silent again, and with a burst of courage, he rested his head against Tom. Surprisingly, he didn't push him away, but instead just let the small Norwegian. 

"Let's get back to bed, yeah?" He finally stated, slowly standing up. With a moment of hesitance, he reached his hand down, offering Tord to take his hand. Tord smiled softly, accepting the gesture. Tom walked him back to his room, neither saying a word. But when they arrived, Tord awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, before speaking up.

"Tom..." He paused. "Thank you." Tom seemed surprised at this, and it made Tord even more confused when he replied with nothing but a smile, a real, genuine smile, something that was rare from Tom.

Two small 'goodnights' were exchanged, before Tord basically flung himself into his room, his heart beating excitedly. For the first time in a while, he was able to sleep.


End file.
